glass roof of the solarium, and above it she could just see the treetops of the wood where Elban had taken Gavin and Theron hunting. In the distance, of course, was the Wall. What she couldn’t see, in any direction, was the ground itself, which meant that someone standing there would not be able to see her, either. This tower wasn’t secret, but forgotten. The smoke and spires of the city were behind her. She didn’t know what lay over the Wall in the direction she was looking. Nobody had ever told her, she’d never thought to ask, and all she could see was sky.
Something in her eased. Away, she thought. I’m away.
An undamaged colored glass window was set into the wall opposite the demolished one. On the floor beneath it, broken metal pieces lay on the floor—gears, tubes—and a small round panel set into the window looked as if it were meant to slide, or maybe even open. She couldn’t get it to move and lost interest quickly. Under the thick mat of leaves on the floor were the same overlapping circles that decorated the chapel windows, inlaid in colored stone. She opened a few of the books on the shelves, but the writing inside them wasn’t any language she recognized. Since she couldn’t read the books, she used three of them to prop up the broken corner of the settee. In a chest in the corner she found a long piece of dark fabric, not too mildewed; she wrapped it around herself and curled up on the settee.
The sun was setting, and the break in the tower wall spread open before her like a stage. Pale rose deepened; became orange, gold, even a ferocious fuchsia that would have rivaled the gaudiest courtier’s gown. Judah leaned her head against the high carved back of the settee and watched. The colors melted, changed, darkened. A seemingly impossible number of stars flared to life. The air was cold. She was not. The moon crept into view, wide and gleaming. Her eyes grew heavy, and closed.
* * *
When she woke, Theron sat hunched on the floor, ankles crossed and arms wrapped tightly around his knees. The sky outside was new-dawn blue. She had slept through the night and into the morning, later than she’d slept in months. Poor Elly would have to milk the ewe alone.
She sat up, which set off a cascade of protesting muscles in her back and neck from the unfamiliar settee. “Here,” Theron said, and handed her a flask. She felt the warmth of the contents through the thick ceramic, and was grateful. “It’s just water, but it’s hot. I used Elly’s quickstove.”
“She’ll be mad at you for wasting the gas,” Judah said, and Theron said, “She wasn’t there.”
The water tasted stale but the warmth was good. “How did you find me?”
“The cats told me,” he said as if it were a perfectly reasonable answer. “But I don’t think Elly will believe that.” His throat worked as he swallowed hard. His eyes darted nervously around the room. “I can’t stay here, Jude. I’m not sure I can come back, even. It feels...tangled. Like being stuck in a thornbush. And the air—” His thin shoulders twitched. “I can’t stay here,” he said again.
Judah could feel nothing wrong with the air. It was damp and crisp and fresh. “I’m not ready to go back. Tell Elly—” she hesitated “—I’ll be down soon.”
But she didn’t go down. Toward noon she felt a tentative scratch on her wrist: Sorry. Please. Come. Talk. She ignored it.
* * *
When she heard footsteps the next morning, she was lying on the floor, watching the clouds. Theron again, she thought, and didn’t even feel inspired to call out. The ruined door opened and the footsteps crossed the floor. They didn’t sound like Theron. She looked up just as the magus sat down next to her, breathing hard.
“That’s a lot of steps. Here.” He dropped a bag in front of her. All sorts of delicious smells emanated from it. Judah realized she was starving. She fell greedily on the food inside: real bread—she tore off a piece immediately and stuffed it into her mouth—a small jar of shredded meat, two juicy-looking red fruits, and chocolate. Slightly grainy, less sweet than she liked it. But chocolate all the same.
The magus watched her eat with as much pleasure as if he’d been eating the food himself. Then he said, “Eleanor sent me. Has she always been afraid of heights?”